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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 4 months

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5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie | Part 1: The Convenience Store

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Eijiro Kirishima x Femme Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Tension, Hero Situations, Eijiro Kirishima is a Pro Hero

Link to My Master List 😬

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie

Part 1: The Convenience Store

It is a rainy Tuesday night and you are absolutely exhausted from work. On your way home to your apartment, you decide to stop by a local bodega for some junk food. You have been looking forward to binge watching a trashy reality TV show all day long, and some potato chips would be the perfect snack to munch on as you enjoy the juicy TV drama.

The bodega’s glass sliding door opens with a squeak as you hastily fold up your dripping umbrella. You shiver as the cool store AC hits your wet skin, and goose bumps flare across your bare arms. The day had started out deceptively warm, and you hadn’t dressed for the weather. You are deeply regretting the choice to wear the navy sleeveless dress that is now clinging to your body and dripping a puddle onto the dull bodega carpet. Oh well – you will be home in just a few minutes and will be able to step into a hot shower soon enough.

You grab a shopping basket and wander the aisles, eager to satiate your cravings for salty crisps. The store is unusually empty for the hour – the sudden rain must have kept most people inside. The only other people present are the elderly cashier, and a man pursuing the energy drinks in one of the freezers. The other patron is keenly focused on a bottle of purple Gatorade - intently reading the ingredient list on the drink’s packaging. You pay no attention to this other customer as you locate the snack aisle and load up your basket with chip bags boasting a variety of fun flavors (BBQ chips?? Yes please!). The aisles are tall – stacked ceiling high with boxes and bags containing every flavor of chip one could imagine.

SMASH! A loud crash reverberates throughout the tiny store, followed by the sound of small objects scattering across the vinyl floor. A deep voice booms out: “This is a hold up. Give me all the money in that register. And make it quick – I don’t think either of us wants any trouble.” You freeze; blood running cold in your veins as you quickly put the pieces of the situation together.

“I swear old man – I’ve got a special quirk that will make your life all kinds of painful unless you Hand. Over. The. Cash.”

You move slowly along the aisle, looking for a gap in the snack shelves so you can better assess the situation. Through a small space between cereal boxes, the situation comes into view – the man that you had seen shopping for sports drinks is now standing menacingly over the check out counter. He is around six feet tall with sharp features; a simple black domino mask obscured his eyes. Clad entirely in black, he stands with his right arm gripping the linoleum countertop, the other poised grotesquely above the cashier’s balding head. It takes you a moment to put together exactly what you were seeing – the villain’s right arm was a gigantic crab claw! If the situation weren’t so tense, you would have died from laughter. The scene is ridiculous – the man’s arm (claw) is twice the length of a typical human arm and had a bright, shiny red hue. This kind of mutation quirk always gives you a start – the unnatural way the man’s body blends seamlessly with the extra large claw is uncanny.

The shop cashier looks up at the villain with terror in his eyes. He seems absolutely frozen on the spot as the masked robber clicks his claw menacingly. With a start, you notice that the inside of the claw is wickedly sharp. The villain flashes it dangerously towards the cashier’s neck to drive a sense of urgency.

You assess your options. Your quirk isn’t particularly powerful, but it definitely has some use here. If you could just get a little bit closer to the situation, you could probably use it to distract the villain long enough to get the cashier out of harm’s way. You stretch out your hand to activate your quirk, but stopped dead when you feel a warm, rough hand clamp around your mouth from behind.

You try to scream, but the sound comes out muffled. Adrenaline floods your veins as you prepared to fight for your life. You hadn’t heard someone sneak up behind you, and you squirm in an effort to get away. An arm reaches out to steady you, and it’s owner whispers: “Sorry to startle you – I’m here to help.” The soft, gravely voice sends a fresh wave of goose bumps down your chilled skin. You turn to see one of the year’s top heroes - the Red Riot - crouched over you in the snack aisle. You’d recognize that trademark red spiky hair anywhere. Your body starts to relax a bit – things are under control and a hero is here!

Over the past few years, Red Riot has been making quite a name for himself in the media as a dependable, chivalrous hero. You’ve often watched his battles and rescues play out on the television – not only was he a skilled hero, but also he was kind and genuine. His interviews were your favorite – he always found such nice things to say about his teammates and the people he rescued. And he wasn’t bad to look at either.

He’s clearly not on duty – his usual simple costume has been traded in for a black t-shirt, jeans and a soft red hoodie. Your heart skips a beat. He’s so totally hot. When he realizes you’re not going to scream and give away his position to the villain, he releases you from his embrace. He smiles reassuringly, and the warmth of his grins reaches his eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of this.” He promises.

For a second there, you completely forgot about the convenience store hold up occurring feet away from where the two of you were crouched. Your senses are clouded by the closeness of Red Riot, who is still holding you steady with his muscular arms. When he realizes his touch is lingering a bit longer than necessary, he quickly pulls away. He shifts to peer over your shoulder through the small cereal box window. The movement brings him ever so slightly closer to you, and you find yourself inhaling the sweet scent of clean laundry. You lean the tiniest bit closer to him.

But back to the situation at hand – you can hear the crab clawed villain barking commands at the cashier. He wants all the money from the register as well as a roll of lotto tickets. He must be either extremely overconfident or incredibly good at crime – because this man is taking his time! Red Riot scowls as he watches the scene unfold. You can see his body tensing as he prepares for a confrontation. With a look of determination, he turns to you and whispers “stay quiet and out of sight. I’m going to go distract the villain and try to de-escalate the situation. If things get physical – run. There’s a dumpling shop across the street – get someone there to call the police.”

His red eyes bore into your own. There’s something so intense and hot about him. You feel a strange connection pulling you closer to this man, closer to the heat of his body.

“W-wait.” You whisper. “I can help!”

You point to the man with the crab claw – he still has the Gatorade bottle in the pocket of his pants. To his left you see a palette of energy drinks waiting to be restocked. “With my quirk I can control small amounts of liquid. I can distract him by levitating all those energy drinks at once. I’ll suspend them in the air and bring them all crashing down on top of him, giving you time to get the cashier out of harm’s way.”

Red Riot smiles appreciatively. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger like that. I’ll handle this on my own. Just keep quiet and get across the street, okay?”

You make a face. You don’t understand why he won’t let you help. After all, the villain seems untrained and unfocused. His claw hand can’t do much damage to a bunch of small, moving targets.

“Trust me.” Red Riot reaches for your hand. He places the pads of your fingers on his palm. You can feel him activating his hardening quirk beneath your fingers as his skin slowly becomes rougher. “I was built for this.”

You nod, unable to argue. His quirk makes his skin feel smooth and strong like the bark of an oak tree. You press your fingers lightly into the center of his hand, but there’s no give. Reflexively, he closes his fingers around your own, causing electricity to shoot through your hand at the intimate touch. Red Riot’s eyes widen, an apology already at his lips. You quickly slip your hand out from his grasp.

“Good luck, Red Riot.” You tap the hardened skin on his forearm. “You’re right – definitely built for this.”

He grins, seemingly basking in the compliment.

“That’s right – just leave this to me!” He whispers back. “Stay safe, okay?”

Red Riot army crawls down the aisle. You watch as he slowly steps out from behind the shelves and approaches the counter confidently, grabbing a bag of BBQ chips on the way. The poor cashier is now filling a grocery bag with money from the register as the crab armed villain hulks over him, sneering and clicking his claw. The villain doesn’t even seem to hear Red Riot approaching him from behind.

In two strides, Red Riot closes the distance and reaches out to tap the villain on his crabby shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the counter. Other people want to check out.” As he says this, he pointedly tosses his bag of chips onto the shiny linoleum counter.

The crab villain whirls around, face full of fury. His eyes widen and his face contorts in fury when he realizes whom he’s talking to. The villain wastes no time – he propels himself away from the counter, whirling his deadly sharp arm towards Red Riot.

Crack!

The arm makes contact with Red Riot’s rock hard skin. The hero smiles smugly, his right arm taking the brunt of the blow.

“Why don’t we take this down a notch, sir? I’m clearly a match for your quirk, and the police are already on their way. There’s no need to fight, we can just talk - ”

The villain moves surprisingly swiftly, shifting around Red Riot’s outstretched arm and reaching to position his claw around Red Riot’s neck. The hero’s facial expression shifts to surprise – he wasn’t expecting a villain with such a cumbersome quirk to be able to move so languidly. The crab villain slowly starts to press down his claw around the hero’s neck. Red Riot is making a face that clearly says “Oh, shit.”

You turn and desperately reach your hand through the gap in the cereal box display, pointing your fingertips at the villain and willing your Quirk to activate. Almost instantly, the Gatorade bottle resting half full in the villain’s back pocket lifts into the air as all of the liquid rushes towards the top of the container. You focus all of your concentration on the bottle.

Unfortunately, you never had a lot of opportunity to train and refine your quirk as you had pursued an educational track that prioritized tech and computer skills over quirk competence. However, you had a grasp on the fundamentals of how your quirk worked – and you figured if you could just distract the crab villain for a moment, you could give Red Riot a chance to regroup.

The villain pressed his sharp claw further around Red Riot’s neck. You could hear an ominous cracking notice – and you hoped desperately that the sound wasn’t the hero’s thick skin crumbling beneath his assailant’s grasp. You began to feel a sickening mix of adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins and you try to renew your concentration. The liquid inside the bottle begins to boil – the water fizzing and popping in the small confined space. You shakily will the bottle to float up and behind the villain’s head.

Red Riot uses his hardened hands to try to break the villain’s grasp, but the crabby grip holds fast. The villain is intensely focused on trying to crush Red Riot’s windpipe, and so he is completely taken by surprise when the bottle of Gatorade explodes and hits the back of his head with a splash of scalding purple liquid. The villain howls in pain – both hands reflexively flying to cradle the back of his burned head. In his pain and fury, he unwittingly releases Red Riot from his grasp. The red headed hero is quick to take advantage of the situation – dropping to the ground and sweeping a strong leg beneath the villain’s own. The crab-clawed villain comes crashing to the ground with a large “thud.”

Red Riot wastes no time, dropping on top of the villain to pin disproportionate arms to the ground.

“Sir, you’re under arrest for armed robbery and for engaging in combat with a licensed hero. The police will be here shortly to take your statement - but in the meantime please stop resisting.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as Red Riot continues to hold the villain tightly to the ground. Behind the counter’s register, the convenience store clerk still stands frozen, holding a wad of bills in bills in a vice-like grip.

You hear the metallic slide of the store’s automatic doors followed by several pairs of heavy boots off to your right. Within a few seconds, a team of police officers comes into view, their starched blue shirts bright in the florescent lighting.

At the sight of the police, the crab villain finally seems to give up fighting – his body sagging to the ground beneath Red Riot. The hero holds his position, eyeing the villain’s mutant arm warily. Even from a distance, you can tell his hardening quirk is still activated – he isn’t taking any chances.

“Great job, Red Riot! We’ll take it from here.” A tall officer with a glinting badge steps forward and uses a length of metal cord to bind the villain’s large clawed arm. “We’ve been after this guy for weeks!”

Red Riot smiles as he steps back and lets the police team capture his assailant. He turns and meets your eyes through the space in the cereal box wall. He grins at you, his dark eyes wink a quick “thanks” in your direction as he detectives whisk him away for questioning.

“Miss – are you alright?” You let out a small squeak of surprise, turning to find a short female officer with a tight bun of dark hair coming around the corner of the aisle. You look down at yourself – crouching like a wild animal in a soggy, rain-drenched dress.

“I’ve definitely had better days.” You laugh, allowing the policewoman to help you to your feet. You feel the adrenaline slowly start to melt away, leaving you feeling shaky and a bit lightheaded. You can’t think of the last time you used your quirk, so you’re sure the little stunt you pulled to save Red Riot has impacted your stamina.

“Mind if we ask you a few questions about what happened here?” The officer asks, motioning for you to follow her to the front of the store where the crab villain is being checked for weapons.

“No, not at all!” You wrap your arms around yourself and attempt to bring some warmth back into your body.

The police had a lot of questions. Apparently this villain had been evading them for quite sometime. He had been robbing convenience stores across several cities. He was quick, efficient, and sometimes even deadly – having injured half a dozen clerks and store patrons in his mad pursuit of cash.

“We heard that you used your quirk to get Red Riot out of a spot of trouble.” The policewoman with the bun taps a pen to a pad of paper thoughtfully. Her tone isn’t accusatory; she’s just stating facts. “The unsanctioned use of a quirk in combat is illegal, but since you were put in a potentially life threatening situation and you were in under the supervision of a pro hero, the Good Samaritan law should cover your actions today.”

You feel the last bit of energy absolutely drain out of you and you reach out to grab a nearby store shelf for support. Illegal? The thought of breaking the law hadn’t even crossed your mind. You had just acted on pure instinct when you saw Red Riot in trouble. You start to shiver more violently as the weight of what you’ve done fully sinks in. The policewoman quickly waves to another officer and you find yourself being guided to a chair.

“Miss - it seems like you’re in shock. Please take some deep breaths and we’ll get you to a hospital shortly to get checked out, alright?” The officer pats your hand kindly and pockets her notepad. She walks out of view to call a medical team with her colleagues and you are momentarily left alone in the corner of the store. You stare at the ground, your head feeling fuzzy and cold. It was so stupid to use your quirk so recklessly like that! You admonish yourself silently. You’re sure that Red Riot could have gotten himself out of that bad situation given time – he was a top hero after all! You were just so worried and eager to help…

A soft material engulfs your shoulders. “You’re freezing! Here – take my sweatshirt.” You turn and see Red Riot standing behind you, his strong hands pressing his large red hoodie around your shoulders. He smooths the plush material around you, and you shiver at the contact.

“I couldn’t possibly take this!” You said weakly despite your body hungrily leaning into the warmth of his touch and the offered piece of clothing.

“It’s too late – it’s already yours. Consider it a thank you for saving me back there.” Red Riot grins, showing off a row of pointed teeth. You gratefully accept the gift – tucking your arms into the floppy sleeves. You’re practically swimming in sweatshirt.

“I really shouldn’t have done that.” You look down, ashamed. “You had the situation under control, and it was irresponsible to use my quirk like that. You even told me not to help earlier.” You shake your head, and then blush when you realize you’re probably showering the chivalrous hero in raindrops.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that at all! While it’s true that a Pro can always break out of a tough spot, someone once told me that ‘meddling where you don’t need to is the essence of a hero.’ You moved without thinking to help me when I needed it. That took guts.” His grin widens. “I’m so lucky that such a strong person was looking out for me from the cereal section.”

You laugh, cheeks blushing at the compliment. He’s just so…handsome, grinning roguishly at you with his deep, dark eyes.

“Your quirk is really strong, too. What was that – liquid manipulation? Have you ever trained your quirk?” You’re taken aback by the sincerity of his interest in your small little quirk.

“Not really – I had the standard quirk class in elementary school where we are evaluated and learn how to control the basics of each of our quirks. Beyond that, I never had much interest in it. I can make small amounts of liquid float, boil and freeze. It’s not particularly powerful, but I can make a mean pot of soup with it.” You smile, appreciating the attention you’re receiving from the hero. “I went to a specialty high school focused on business and marketing, so I pretty much avoided any quirk training or hero-focused track. Exploding that little Gatorade bottle was probably the crux of my power.”

“Well it was incredible! I feel like you’re really underselling yourself – I see so much potential in you and your quirk. With just a little training, I think you could really do some damage.” Red Riot says excitedly, talking animatedly with his hands. You laugh, picturing yourself in some ridiculous hero suit parading around the city splashing boiling water on legions of seafood-themed villains.

“Surprisingly, the hero life is just not for me!” You grin before a wave of shivers wracks through your body. Is this from shock? Or is it the damp cold of your rain soaked dress finally catching your attention.

Red Riot instantly notices your discomfort and shakes his head thoughtfully before saying: “Stay here a minute, I have an idea.” He scampers away and you’re left alone again. You focus on taking a few deep, calming breaths as you zip the hoodie up to your chin. You inhale deeply and realize that the red fabric smells comforting and sweet – a combination of mint and cedar wood. You deeply breathe in the scent of Red Riot, and you feel your panic ebb away. You’re steeped in exhaustion as you slouch against the hard plastic chair.

A moment later, Red Riot re-appears, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I made you some peppermint tea.” He says shyly, holding out the hot cup. “It always makes me feel better after a fight – I thought it might do the same for you.”

You take the cup gratefully and tip it back for a sip. He holds out a hand to stop you. “Careful, it’s hot. Give it a second to cool so you don’t burn your mouth.”

“Thank you so much, Red Riot. I really appreciate all you’ve done today.” You’re too tired to care that you sound like a fan girl.

“Hey, call me Eijiro. After what we’ve been through together, we should be on a first name basis.” To your surprise, his cheeks tint pink as he shares his first name. You smile softly and share your own nickname. He repeats it back to you, seeming to like the way your name rolls on his tongue.

“It’s nice to meet you Eijiro.” You feel the warmth of the tea sinking into your icy hands.

“So what were you buying here at the store anyway? Let me go get you a cart and – oh, hold on!” He absentmindedly leans in close to you, reaching out to pull a stray wet strand of hair away from your face. He tucks it gently behind your ear. “We should really get you a hair dryer or something!” He laughs, “You’re still soaking wet!” Despite just having met, the touch is so intimate and familiar. You lean towards him, wanting him to touch you again with his strong, capable hero fingertips.

“Red Riot – the press is outside waiting to interview you.” A police officer calls over, snapping you both back to reality. “They’re eager to hear about how you apprehended the villain. For the sake of her privacy, let’s leave this young lady’s roll in the capture out of it.”

Eijiro snaps to attention, his hand still hovering close to your face. He turns to give the officer a thumbs up. “Sounds good to me! I’ll be right there.”

He moves to look at you again. His eyes are wide and his expression intrigued. “They’re going to take you to the hospital to make sure everything looks okay. They’ll probably keep you overnight for observation until you’re out of shock. I’m sure they’ll take good care of you, cutie.” He stands to walk out of the store. “Thanks for saving my life – I hope to hear from you soon!”

And with a wave, he strides away towards the press team waiting outside. You look down into your tea, confused and quietly delighted at his hope to hear from you. You have absolutely no idea how you would ever contact him again, but the sentiment and the term of endearment he had used is sweet. Ever the chivalrous hero.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of tests and scans and interviews with police officers and doctors alike. Despite your protests, an ambulance whisks you away to the closest hospital and you are kept under observation just as Red Riot - Eijiro - had predicted. The staff is courteous and sweet, praising you for your roll in the incident when the police officers tip them off. You’re given comfortable clothes to borrow and access to a hot shower adjacent to your hospital room.

When you finally sink into the hospital bed, it’s pitch black outside. You flick on the grainy old TV that’s mounted above your bed and flick through the channels until you stop to see a familiar face on the local news.

Red Riot is smiling down at you from the TV set, his eyes warm as he answers the questions of various reporters.

“I was just shopping for some ramen when I noticed the villain. Weird coincidence that I just happened to be at the same store as him!” The hero laughs, rubbing his hand behind his head. “I’m thankful to the store patrons and the clerk who stayed calm as I handled the situation.”

“Red Riot – did you have any difficulty subduing the victim?”

Eijiro pauses to think for a moment before carefully saying “There was a moment that he had the drop on me, but a really cute shopper distracted him for me and allowed me to get the upper hand.”

“You’re so humble, Red Riot. I’m sure you had everything under control.”

Eijiro shakes his head. “I don’t want to encourage recklessness, but I do want to make it clear that you don’t need to be a Pro to be someone’s hero. The woman who helped me today – her bravery and willingness to act even when things were scary is what true heroism looks like. I’m grateful to her, and I hope that I’ll be able to see her again soon.”

The reporters continue to fawn over Red Riot for a few more minutes – peppering him with more questions that he cheekily answers. He avoids revealing any additional details about you despite the reporter’s needling and prodding. Soon the news broadcast ends, and the anchor appears on screen and starts discussing upcoming movie releases.

You sit with your mouth gaping open. Had you really made such a lasting impression on the sturdy hero? You feel your heartbeat increase at the thought, causing the heart monitors strapped to your chest to peep and whir. A nurse appears at your side in an instant, and you bashfully explain to her that you are fine – just a bit overexcited from the day’s events. Once she is assuaged, you return to flipping through channels before settling on reruns of The Bachelor. This wasn’t the soapy TV series you had been looking forward to all day, but it was as close as you are going to get at this point. You let the show run and before long you are dozing in the propped up hospital bed, dreaming of seafood villains and heroes with bright hair and dark, endless eyes.

When you’re finally ready to check out from the hospital the next day, the nurse at the front desk presents you with your belongings. Your wallet, your high heeled work shoes, and an extra large bright red hoodie. “Oh – I forgot about this.” You gratefully accept the sweatshirt and shrug it on. It swings around you like a trench coat, fluffy and warm. You can still smell traces of cedar wood on the collar.

You walk out of the hospital and into a surprisingly sunny day, metallic sliding doors parting for you as you exit. You sink your hands into the hoodie’s overlarge pockets and are surprised to feel a rectangular square object tucked into the deep right pocket. Had Eijiro left a piece of gum in his hoodie? You fish it out with your index and pointer fingers – it’s a small folded up piece of paper ripped from a notepad. Upon closer inspection, you notice that it’s branded with the convenience store’s faded logo. You guess it was ripped from the clerk’s register notepad.

Curious, you unfold the small wad of paper. Written hastily across the note is a messy scrawl of digits and the words: Would love to take you to dinner some time, cutie. Thanks for rescuing me. – Eijiro.

Oh my God. He gave you his number. A warm blush creeps up your face as your eyes run across the note over and over again. What a crazy 24 hours it has been! You reach into your purse to grab your phone. With shaky hands you add “Eijiro Kirishima” as a contact in your phone, adding a few rock emojis and a bright red crab emoji beside his name. He’d probably find that hilarious.

You draft up a fresh text to the red headed hero and type: “In need of rescuing tonight – the villain: hunger and boredom. In need of a hero who knows the perfect ramen spot.” You hit send and hold your breath. What if he’s on patrol tonight? You worry. What if he was just being nice and doesn’t actually see you again?

Your worries are totally baseless, because within seconds you have a reply: “I’m more than up for this mission – meet me in front of the convenience store at 8. Wear the sweatshirt so I’ll recognize you in the crowd?” He ends it with a winking emoji and your heartbeat quickens. You officially have a date set with Eijiro Kirishima – the Red Riot.

Your hero.

Thanks so much for reading!!!

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Other Kirishima Stories:

Headcannon: Kirishima LOVES wearing Bakugo's clothes.

🦈❤️Boyfriend!Kirishima ❤️🦈

A Long, *Hard* Night with Eijiro Kirishima (A18+ - MDNI!!!) 💋

Link to My Master List 😬

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marvelavengerspovs1 · 8 months

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Stress Relief

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!reader

Warnings: None, this is all fluff!

Length: 869

Summary: After deciding to go back to school for college you find that it is a lot more stressful than you imagined. Luckily, Bucky is there to help you.

A/N: Hi! This is my first-ever post, so any critiques are welcomed!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

Bucky watches you from the couch. You’re sitting at the dining room table working on an assignment for your calculus class. When you decided you wanted to get a college degree, Bucky was supportive of you. You decided that while being a medical assistant was nice, you wanted to work to become a doctor. Part of the reason was that the Avengers agreed to hire you after graduation.

It’s the start of the 2nd semester and you’re only 2 weeks in but the stress is already getting to you. You want to stay on top of your grades and not burn out, but it is getting increasingly difficult. Now you’re using what used to be your free days as study days surrounded by printed assignments, textbooks, and your laptop.

“Oh my god, this is so stupid!” You scream and throw your pencil down and cradle your head in your now empty hands.

“Are you ok doll?” Bucky asks from the couch.

You just take a deep breath and rest your head on the cool surface of the table. Bucky takes that as a no and gets up from the couch to sit next to you.

He places his hand on the small of your back and rubs small slow circles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head and wince when the side of your head hits the corner of the textbook. “Maybe it was a mistake to go back to school.”

Bucky stares at your deflated figure. “Don’t say that doll. This is only right now, you’re not going to regret it once you walk that stage and start med school.”

You tilt your head and look at him. “I just hate calculus.”

Bucky laughs. “I’m glad I never had to take it. Here, let me look, it can’t possibly be that hard.”

You lift your head so that Bucky can look at your notebook with your notes and the scrap paper you used to solve the equation.

Bucky’s eyebrows quickly furrow. “What the fuck is that symbol?”

You look at the paper to see what he’s pointing at. The equation is a limit function.

You laugh. “Oh, that just means you have to find the limit as x approaches -2 of that equation.”

Bucky looks at you with a lost expression. “Doll, maybe you should just take a break.”

You shake your head. “I can’t. This is due next Wednesday and it’s already Tuesday.”

Bucky smiles at you. One of the many things he loves about you is how you like to get things done in advance.

“Doll, it won’t be long. You just need a little break to clear your mind. You’ve been working since 7:00 this morning and it’s already 6:00.”

“Ok, but only for a little bit. I want to get this done.”

“I promise.” Bucky grabs your hands and helps you get up from the dining room.

Bucky gently guides you to the couch and makes you sit down. He goes and grabs a blanket for you and two beers from the fridge. Bucky lays the blanket on you and hands you one of the beers before going to the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask him.

“Just wait, doll,” Bucky says and there’s a knock on your door.

Bucky opens the door and you see a delivery driver hand him a bag of your favorite Chinese takeout. While most of the food is not authentic Chinese food, you couldn’t deny how delicious it was.

“When did you order this?” You ask once Bucky sits down next to you and places the food on the table in front of you.

“I ordered about half an hour ago. I knew you didn’t eat any lunch and were going to be hungry soon.” His point was made when you both heard your stomach growl.

You lean forward to kiss him and grab a box that’s filled with orange chicken. “Thank you Bucky, this is really sweet.”

Bucky smiles and kisses you again. “Anything for my doll.”

You and Bucky eat the takeout he ordered and watch trashy reality TV. You laugh as you see Bucky yelling at the TV that everyone is lying to each other and that they shouldn’t trust people so easily. But when you’re not looking, Bucky stares at you. He looks at the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and laugh, the way you blush when you catch him looking at you, and how hot you look while you’re wearing his sweater.

You look at your phone and realize that it is now 7:15. “Ok Buck, I have to get back to my work.”

Bucky pouts and grabs your wrist as you start to get up. “One more thing Doll.”

You smile down at him as he pulls you to straddle his lap. “And what is that?”

He puts his left hand on your hip and his other on the back of your neck. He pulls you in for a long kiss but lets you go once you start to melt into him. “Go finish your assignments before I have my way with you.”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff

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endrinstone · 4 months

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Since it looks like ivory's streams are gone now, I compiled a list of all of her Showtime SMP streams, so that there's at least some record of their existence. I provided links (in blue) to alternative povs of the events, if any exist for the given day, and included brief descriptions of what happened. In parentheses are the titles and links of the now deleted streams. Enjoy!

All dates are in 2023.

9. 6. ivory's video. Gets gear, and a horse named Lewidor. Not in character. The video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator is a summary of the first few days, with kinda a more self-aware, comedic take on it. (Title: its showtime.)

10. 6. Zolister. Announces her Watchkeeper reign, then talks about morals with Vi and chat. (Title: ivory makes an announcement)

12. 6. ivory's video. Hunts down her first person, Rylan. The video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player sums it up very well. (Title: showtime smp)

13.6. None. Makes a grave for her horse Lewidor with Vi. Vi then shows her his therapy office. (Title: lewidor's funeral)

22. 6. Vi. Gets introduced to kantje and Effy. Kills Cupid, then Mugm in an arena duel, then Rylan. Then hangs out with Vi. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

25. 6. None. Builds a drowned farm (with Vi and Loppezz, if I remember correctly), and kills Tidus in a very drawn out battle. (Title: happy tuesday.)

28. 6. Nebula. Killing Strobe, which she felt really bad for. (Title: i love murder.)

2. 7. Nebula. Killing Nebula. (Title: i am normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

4. 7. Zolister and Vi. Gets hunted down by a group of people. The bit where she gets hunted is gone now though. (Title: frog)

5. 7. None. Family roadtrip with Vi, Zolister and Rasplin. Ends with Vi trying (and succeeding) to prevent the other three from killing each other. (Title: SNOG)

9. 7. kantje. Casino opening day, she threatens the owners after they put her kill list up for auction. (Title: shoe time)

16. 7. Vi and Zolister and kantje. The petition against ivory's regime. She refuses to step down, and gets killed repeatedly. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP SUNDAY and the n NIERAUTOMAA)

17. 7. None. VN43 makes a deal with her: he will provide her with resources, and in exchange she will give him some power if she wins the election. Both are very willing to betray each other. (Title: nothing - showtime smp AND THEN OMORI)

21. 7. Vi. Talks with Vi, looks for a location for a new base, briefly talks with Win, Trashy, and Divy. (Title: showtime smp - WAHOO)

23. 7. None. Looking for a potential base location and grinding. She (half by accident, half on purpose) finds someone’s secret base. Not in character. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

26. 7. None. Just grinding for resources. Not in character. (Title: showtime smp CHILLING. NO MURDER.)

6. 8. Zolister. Gets told about The Silencers by kantje, kills Zolister, tears down her house. She starts "glitching out", reminiscent of the I Killed God video. Alluded/talked to Ebony (clarification). (Title: showtime smp sunday)

7. 8. None. Renovating an ancient city, getting rid of the shriekers. Not in character. (Title: im going to kil)

9. 8. None. Hangs out with CherryNyx, who asks her questions about humanity. Then works on her base. (Title: im)

13. 8. None. Building an iron farm in her base. Not in character. (Title: gorgle)

18. 8. Vi. The election. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP ELECTION)

Bonus: ivory didn’t stream these, but they are relevant. If you have more of these, let me know.

23. 6. Vi: Vi and ivory hang out, and discuss ivory's mental state.

20. 8. Win/Boba/ Vi: ivory’s goodbye letter.

28. 10. Vi: (Unborn Solipsism) has a scene where ivory tells Vi goodbye.

Bonus two: these ivory streams were not actually on Showtime, but were related. Not super useful information, but here you go.

30. 6. gug. Analysing her video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator.

13. 7. WEEE. Analysing her video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player.

18. 7. showtime smp reading stream (then drawing). Reading Showtime SMP fanfics.

31. 7. showtime smp base planning. In a creative world, planning out the design of her ancient city base.

#thank you vod archivists. the spreadsheet was very helpful #lmk if you have any additions or questions #unfortunately most of her quiet introspective moments are not in others' povs #ivorycello #showtime smp #endrin’s posts #ivory

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stormz369 · 1 day

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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 4

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, bit of trauma processing, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: family discord and dealing with trauma, drugs briefly mentioned, human trafficking briefly mentioned

word count: 1.7k

Chapter 1 ... Chapter 3 Chapter 4

I thought I was a strong, independent woman. I thought I preferred to take care of myself, that I could never be comfortable relying on others. One date with Jason had me strongly questioning those convictions. He bought the books, we had a late lunch/early dinner at the food court, wandered several stores, and talked about everything and nothing. I managed to keep him from buying every little thing I looked at, but we still ended up with several bags - all of which he insisted on carrying. Even with the bags in his hands, he managed to get his pinky wrapped around mine every time my hand was down. It was clingy, and awkward to walk, and it made me giddy. Is this feeling what everyone’s so obsessed with? … I think I get it now.

Jason drove me home that night, insisting that it was getting too dark and he didn't like the idea of me on public transit alone at night. Normally I would fight him on that, but the idea of walking home from the bus stop was doing unpleasant things to my stomach. He parked, and we took several minutes to rearrange the items in our bags.

“... I guess that’s everything.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think you're right. … Thank you, Jay, this was a lot of fun.”

He smiled softly, nodding. “I had fun too. … Can I … see you again?”

“It's a distinct possibility.” I smirked a bit. “After all, I have yet to pass judgment on your trashy romance novel selection.”

He laughed softly, groaning and rubbing his face. “I already regret suggesting that. Give it back, you can't have it.”

I held my bags away from him, giggling a bit as he pretended to try to steal them. Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my vision, and I saw a silhouette on the roof across the street. “Oh god…”

“What? What's wrong??” Jason pulled back a bit.

“There’s someone on that roof. Which one is that, can you tell?” I peered up, but with the moon behind them I couldn't see any details.

Jason turned to look too, suddenly a bit stoney. “... Looks like Red Robin and Nightwing.”

“... Two of them? Are you sure? I only see one.” He just nodded. “... Fuuuhhhck, what's happening in my stupid neighborhood?”

“Probably nothing. This isn't their patrol territory…. Or … at least, that's what I've heard.”

I raised an eyebrow, staring at him. “You've heard? … What, do they take their cars to you?”

“... Something like that. … Anyway, it's well known, this is Red Hood's part of town.”

“... You don't think they're here for him, do you? I thought they were allied now?”

Jason shook his head a bit. “Probably just trying to spy on him … nosy bitches…”

I giggled a bit at that, but couldn't help the sneaking concern in the back of my mind. If they really were here to spy on Red Hood, that would suggest he was nearby … Did he decide he wanted his shirt back after all, or was something bad happening in the area?

Jason turned to me, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey, don't worry about them. You just get inside where it's safe, ok?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Ok, but text me when you get home.”

He nodded, chuckling, “will do. And … about seeing each other again, … how about lunch on Tuesday?”

I nodded, grinning. “Sounds good. Good night, Jay.”

“Night, Doll.” I blushed a bit, getting out of the car and into my building. He waited for me to close the door before driving away, and I headed up to my apartment.

I wasn't sure what I'd find upstairs. I hadn't told Red Hood my unit number, but it probably wouldn't be that hard for him to figure out. … Hell, the shirt might have a tracker on it.

I unlocked my door and checked every room. Nothing had moved. My clothes were still in a crumpled heap on my floor, the flannel still peaking out from under my ruined pants. It occurred to me that I had meant to pick up a replacement pair at the mall before heading home. I sat on my knees, trembling a bit as I picked up the shirt. A thorough examination didn't reveal any electronic pieces attached. It was just a normal red flannel.

I held the shirt against my chest, shaking a bit. Everything was fine. I was fine. Red Hood was one of the good guys, even if he did some really terrifying shit. I wasn't a drug dealer or a human trafficker, so he had nothing against me. He was kind to me, even. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

My mind slowly drifted away from that night. Thoughts of blood and fear were replaced bit by bit with Jason; his shy little smiles and cheeky grins, the feeling of his finger wrapped around mine, even the smell of his cologne. When I breathed deep I could still smell it; a rich, woody smell, with a bit of lavender, and under that was a base note I couldn't identify. Something sharp and slightly metallic. I sighed softly, deciding not to think too hard about why I was tying the shirt around my waist, and started tidying the apartment. Couldn't put the pile off forever, but I didn't have to start there…

Jason watched her go inside, waiting to make sure no creeps followed her in before the security door locked. Once he was satisfied that she was safe, he drove off, calling Dick. Straight to voicemail. He tried Tim; also straight to voicemail. Annoying, but fine. He knew where they would be headed next.

Unfortunately for them, the drive was not nearly long enough to calm him down. He pulled in to the batcave and sat on the hood of his car to watch the entrance. Eventually the pair rode in, staring at him like he was the grim reaper.

“… Heeeyy Jason! What are you doing here? Don't you have tonight off?” Tim tried to play it cool, taking his bike to its designated parking spot.

“You should be more careful, Tim. She saw you.”

“Whaaaat? I don't know what you're-”

“She. Saw. You. On that rooftop.” Jason growled a bit, clenching his fist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to reassure her that her neighborhood was not about to be attacked without revealing too much?”

“C'mon Jaybird, we just wanted to check in!” Dick grinned, moving to pinch his cheek. “Baby Jay-Jay's first date! You can't fault us for being excited for you!”

He smacked Dick's hand. “I can and do. Don't do anything like that ever again.”

Dick hissed dramatically, pouting. “You're so mean, Jay. We just wanted to see if it was going well!”

“Stop. Spying. On me.” He growled, giving Tim a pointed glare. The younger man raised both hands in surrender and nodded.

Dick smirked as Jason opened his car door, calling out; “okaaay, but don't forget to report in to the chat. Unless you'd rather Babs check the CCTV footage at the mall for us?”

Jason froze and growled. “… Fuck….” He slammed the door shut and drove away without another word.

BatKids Group Chat:

Jason: It went well. Now everyone STOP stalking me! You're weirding her out! 😡

8:04pm

Cass: Excuse me??

8:06pm

Damian: Grayson and Drake are the only ones interested enough to bother stalking you, maybe you should focus your ire on them and not the whole family?

8:06pm

Babs: We need details, Jay!

8:07pm

Duke: Wait, what??

8:08pm

Dick: Jaybird went on a date today, Duke! Keep up!

8:09pm

Tim: With a normal human-type girl no less!

8:10pm

Damian: How normal can she be? She accepted a date with Todd after you two harassed her.

8:11pm

Cass: 🙃 … Dick, do we need to have a talk?

8:12pm

Damian: I handled the matter at the coffee shop. (and am still waiting to be thanked, for the record Todd - the date would not have happened if I hadn't stepped in.) … But still, the girl's taste does seem questionable.

8:13pm

Dick: There was nothing to handle! We had it under control! 🙄

8:14pm

Cass: I hate to say it, but Dami does have a point - are we /sure/ she's entirely normal? There's no chance she's an undercover villain or anything?

8:14pm

Tim: Way ahead of you - background check came back clean. She's as normal as any other Gothamite.

8:15pm

Duke: So … absolutely nuts, but probably not too dangerous? 😂

8:16pm

Babs: Don’t listen to them, Jason - she's a very lucky (normal) girl!

8:17pm

Jason: You cannot be serious. You ran a background check???

8:19pm

Steph: What Babs said. Now, make with the details! 🤩

8:20pm

Dick: Of course we did - what kind of big brother would I be if I let you go out with a girl we know nothing about???

8:21pm

Jason: 😑 … This is exactly why I don't usually respond to this thread.

8:30pm

Duke: Details, man!

8:31pm

Steph: Details! Details! Details!

8:32pm

Jason: 😤 … We picked out books for each other.

8:38pm

Dick: Awww, cute!

8:39pm

Babs: … And???

8:40pm

Jason: And … She seemed a bit surprised that I was there at all?

8:43pm

Damian: Pleasantly surprised, or upset?

8:44pm

Jason: … Just … Baffled I think.

8:45pm

Tim: … How many times did you have to reschedule?

8:46pm

Jason: … A few. But I always told her with enough time so that I wouldn't be standing her up!

8:47pm

Babs: Curious…

8:48pm

Dick: Alright everybody, recon time!

8:48pm

Jason: NO! It is NOT recon time!

8:49pm

Damian: What do we know about this girl?

8:50pm

Babs: On it!

8:50pm

Jason: No, no, NO! Stop!!!

8:51pm

Tim: Too late!

8:52pm

Jason: Uuggghh! I'm muting all of you!

8:53pm

Tim: … NOT IT TO TELL B!

8:55pm

Damian: Not it

8:56pm

Babs: Not it!

8:56pm

Cass: NOT IT!

8:57pm

Steph: Not it!!!

8:58pm

Duke: Not it!

8:58pm

Dick: …. Fuck.

9:03pm

Divider by: @saradika

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #jason todd #red hood x reader #dc #jason todd x reader #first person pov #no use of y/n #batfam #batfamily #wayne family adventures

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phillippadgettwrites · 8 months

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So. Any chance of a Dropped Call 3??

Dropped Call, Chapter 3

Rated X / 4743 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She thinks of it like a little toggle in her brain, like a switch. Or maybe more like a curtain that she can open and close at will. It’s something she developed as a teen, when her desire to remain pure of mind and body was in direct conflict with her desire to imagine what it might be like if Tommy Warner felt her up under her school uniform. Saturday night she’d stay up late discreetly discovering the hidden pleasure points between her legs, and then on Sunday morning she would simply flip the switch and go to Mass, her indiscretion so completely obscured behind her mental curtain that she felt no connection to Father Malone’s sermon on sins of the flesh.

Over the years, she’s found many uses for this mental trick. In school, in jobs, in relationships, she avoids being overwhelmed by her own emotions by simply setting them aside, behind the curtain, and pretending as though they don’t exist. It doesn’t always work, but she’s found that the more intense the emotion is or the higher the stakes are, the more effectively she can ignore it, at least until she’s alone. In a psychology course at UMD she learned that the term for this strategy is compartmentalization, and that when done to excess it can become maladaptive. Rather than examine whether her own compartmentalization was doing her more harm than good, she stuck that behind the curtain, too.

This whole bizarre situation with Mulder is taking up an increasingly large amount of space behind the curtain. So much space that she worries it could become uncontainable, that it could all burst through some Tuesday afternoon and ruin everything. She’s had to pull back on their friendship out of fear that the dam won’t hold, and the dichotomy of it all makes her feel like a stranger in her own life. She powers through each workday, counting down the hours until she can go home and stop using all her mental energy to hold the curtain closed. When she walks through her apartment door it hits her like a sneaker wave, and she spends the rest of the evening reading trashy romance novels, masturbating, or deep cleaning something just to keep herself distracted.

The worst part of it is that it’s just so stupid. She knows that they both want the same thing, knows it with absolute certainty, and yet she’s too cowardly to let it happen. She can cross all kinds of boundaries with a phone line between them, but the second his physical form is proximal to hers, the curtain swings shut and her walls go up, and she truly doesn’t know how to stop it from happening. As it turns out, defense mechanisms aren’t entirely voluntary.

It’s Friday, a week or so since their last sordid phone call, and Mulder is wearing his charcoal suit. He’s being excessively charming and she can’t stop smiling at him, despite her very best efforts not to. Not that she doesn’t want to smile and laugh with him, she very much does, but when he meets her eye and smiles at her like that, and she feels herself smiling back, the curtain strains against the weight of everything behind it and she begins to panic.

“What are you up to this weekend?” he asks when she starts to pack up her things a few minutes before five.

“Not much,” she says, not looking at him. “Grocery shopping. Maybe Mass with my mother.”

“Would it be okay if I gave you a call?”

She freezes. Mulder calls her all the time, near daily, and he’s never asked for permission to do so. The curtain bulges, threatening to split open, and she clears her throat.

“Sure, that’s fine,” she says, her eyes still downcast.

“Tonight?” His voice is so hopeful, and it makes her feel like shit.

“Okay.”

She puts on her coat and slings her bag over her shoulder. Before leaving, she forces herself to look at him.

“Have a good weekend,” she says with a polite little smile.

Mulder’s eyes narrow in that way that means he’s psychoanalyzing her, his head tilted increments to the side.

“Likewise,” he says, his tone unreadable.

She escapes into the hallway, holding the curtain closed with both hands.

Once inside her apartment, the weight of anticipation sits heavy in her pelvis and her ears tingle with the effort of listening for the phone. She changes into comfortable clothes and conveniently forgoes panties, barely registering the fact that she’s doing so to give herself easy access.

He could call at any time. It could be in five minutes, or five hours. When 8:00 pm comes and goes she entertains the idea of just calling him instead, but she doesn’t have any room for that behind the curtain so she decides to wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.

He finally calls at 8:57.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he says brightly. “Long time no talk.”

Is he being facetious since they just saw each other a few hours ago, or is he referring to the last time she played the role of Electra?

“It’s good to hear your voice,” she says, then makes a face at herself. Electra is supposed to be sexy, not sweet.

“Ditto. What are you up to?”

She’s standing in the middle of her living room, piqued and nervous, but that’s probably not what he’s hoping to hear.

“I’m…talking to you,” she says. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” he says with a sigh, “I have a bit of a conundrum.”

“Oh?” Scully paces slowly around her couch and coffee table. Where is he going to take this?

“I was hoping you could help me out,” he says.

“Okay. What’s the conundrum?”

“Well, it’s about my partner,” he says.

Scully sinks slowly down onto the couch.

“Okay.”

She hears Mulder swallow thickly.

“So I think,” he begins, “that she might be interested. That she might…share my feelings.”

Scully’s heart leaps and begins to pound against her ears.

“That’s…that’s good news, right?” she says, reminding herself that she is Electra right now.

“It is, absolutely. Phenomenal news,” he says emphatically.

“So what’s the conundrum?”

“I think she’s too afraid to take the next step. I know she is, actually,” he says. She can hear the way the sunflower seeds in his mouth change the shape of his words, and she imagines him spending the hours leading up to this phone call munching on them and thinking about how to have this conversation. “And I think maybe she needs me to be the one to do that. But if I’m wrong, I run the risk of fucking things up between us.”

“That sounds difficult,” she says, her head spinning.

“So what should I do?” he asks.

Electra wants to answer the question, but Scully is frantically shoving things back behind the curtain, tugging at the edges in an attempt to keep it all hidden.

“I think you’re right,” she blurts out, closing her eyes. “I think she does need you to be the one.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“But should I wait?” he asks. “Maybe she’s not ready.”

“I imagine she’s as ready now as she’ll ever be,” she says, eyes still closed. The curtain is tearing right down the middle, the contents spilling out, and her stomach lurches.

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Scully sits up, opening her eyes. Was that it?

“No problem.”

“Hey, can I call you right back?” Mulder says, his tone much lighter.

“Sure, okay.”

Her heart pounds painfully hard in the roughly thirty seconds that she waits for him to call back. Maybe he’s going to call Scully this time. Maybe he’s going to put it all out in the open and force her hand. Even though it’s what she just told him he should do, she’s so terrified that she considers not answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, me again, sorry about that,” he says.

So…she’s still Electra?

“It’s fine,” she says, then waits for him to speak.

“I was hoping we could try something different,” he says. “Bit of a role reversal.”

“Um, okay,” she says, curious but worried. “What did you have in mind?

“I’ve told you about my fantasies.” A pause. “I’d like to hear about yours.” Her entire nervous system short circuits, and she briefly loses touch with reality. “Electra?”

“Yeah,” she sputters, shifting around on the couch uncomfortably. “I’m here. Is that…allowed?”

Mulder laughs nervously.

“The arrangement is that I pay you to talk to me. There aren’t really rules beyond that.”

“Oh.” Her mind is going a million miles an hour trying to figure out how to sidestep this. “That’s, um…that’s quite private, though.”

“True. But I’d argue that you’ve been given unfettered access to my private thoughts, so it’s an equal exchange,” he reasons.

She can tell that he won’t push much further. He knows her too well to do that. But he does have a point, and she still harbors some guilt for not stopping him when he shared his fantasy with her in that first phone call.

“Yeah, that’s true,” she says. “What do you want to know?”

She senses his excitement, and she’s so conflicted between feeling excited herself and feeling terrified. There will be no coming back from this. The curtain is practically in tatters.

“I would be ecstatic to hear literally anything you’re willing to share,” he says carefully, tempering his eagerness.

Scully leafs through her mental file of fantasies, the ones she’s prone to revisit. Her cheeks get hot as she considers the idea of sharing any of them with Mulder, in no small part because he stars in every single one of them. But right now he’s talking to Electra, and Electra would be fantasizing about someone else. She finds an intact corner of the curtain and draws it up, separating herself from the situation.

“We’re in my kitchen,” she says, jumping right into it. “We’ve just had dinner or something and we’re cleaning up. He’s helping me with the dishes.”

“Who is he?” Mulder interrupts.

“He’s…a friend.”

“A close friend?”

“Yes. A best friend.” She can’t leave him to wonder if she’s talking about him. That feels too cruel. “A coworker,” she adds.

“What does he look like?”

Scully lays back on the couch, propping her head on the armrest. She pictures Mulder earlier that day at work in his charcoal suit, smiling at her over his desk.

“Tall. Dark features. Handsome.”

“You think so?”

She smiles and allows this brief break in their role play.

“I do. Very much.”

“So you’re in the kitchen,” he prompts her.

“We’re in the kitchen and we’re kind of joking around, laughing. He’s teasing me, but not in an unkind way. And there’s a moment where he’s looking at me and smiling, and something passes between us. Moments like that happen all the time, but I always look away.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid,” she admits.

“Of what?”

She takes a moment to consider the question. As conflicted as she is when it comes to her relationship with Mulder, she’s never allowed herself to think too deeply about what exactly she’s conflicted about.

“Of being hurt, I guess. Of being vulnerable.”

“You think he’d hurt you?” he asks, maybe a bit wounded.

“Not intentionally,” she says. “But I think it could easily happen.”

She senses that he’d like to explore this line of thought, but that would completely derail the fantasy. She hears a beeping sound and then a soft thud. Maybe the microwave. Leave it to Mulder to get hungry at a time like this.

“I’m sure he’d do everything possible to avoid that,” he says somberly. “So do you look away?”

“No,” she says, jumping back to the kitchen in her mind. “I don’t look away this time, and it becomes…intense. He steps closer and I realize he’s going to kiss me.”

“And you want him to?”

“Yes, very much. He kisses me and it’s sweet at first, but quickly becomes more…intense. Sorry, I can’t think of a different word to use.”

“Intense is a good word,” he says, encouraging her.

His connection is a bit muffled, like the phone isn’t quite lined up correctly to his mouth. She wonders if he’s in bed, and what he’s doing.

“He picks me up and puts me on the counter, which makes things much easier because he’s quite a bit taller than me. And we just kiss for a while. I guess…I guess more accurately it would be making out.”

“Do you think he’s a good kisser?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately.

“You’ve given this thought?”

“Yes,” she says again.

“And then what?”

Scully swallows. This is where things go from PG-13 to explicit.

“And then he pulls me down off the counter so I’m standing on the floor, and he turns me around.” Mulder is silent on the other end of the line. All she hears is a mechanical hum. “And he, um, he pulls my pants and underwear down. And then he sort of pushes me forward so I’m leaning over the counter.”

Her heart simply cannot take this. It’s been in overdrive so long she’s starting to sweat, and she’s lying completely still on the couch.

“What does he do?” Mulder finally asks.

“I think he’s going to…to take me from behind, but he doesn’t,” she says, her voice shaking. “He kneels on the floor behind me.”

“Tell me.” His voice is commanding, not pleading, and it’s effective.

“He, um, he eats me out from behind. He makes me orgasm that way,” she says.

She hears the rush of Mulder’s sharp inhale through the phone.

“Is that where it ends?” he asks.

She barely registers another set of beeps and another soft thud.

“No,” she continues. “After that he does take me from behind.”

“He fucks you?”

The sharpness of the word, from Mulder’s mouth, in reference to herself, makes her clit jump. Scully slides her free hand under the waist of her pants and swirls her middle finger around it languidly.

“Yes,” she breathes. “He fucks me.”

“Do you come again?”

“Yes.”

“What about him?”

“He comes inside me.”

“You want him to?”

“I do.”

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks, his voice a near whisper.

“Yes,” she whispers back.

“Open the door,” he says.

“What?”

“Open the door.”

Her confusion gives way to horror as she recognizes the soft murmur of his voice in the hallway. She’s frozen in place, her hand down her pants and her widened eyes on her front door.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” she hisses, pulling her hand out of her pants as she slips down to the floor and attempts to hide behind the couch.

“Please let me in,” he implores, and she hears his voice in stereo.

“I can’t,” she whimpers.

It feels true. She feels physically incapable of walking to the door and allowing him to look at her after what she just told him.

“Then I’m going to let myself in,” he says.

He waits a beat to see if she’ll object, but she says nothing. She hears the scrape of his key in the lock and then the pop of the deadbolt. The door opens and she slowly stands up from behind the couch, the phone still pressed to her ear.

He’s standing in her entryway, his cell phone in one hand and his keys in the other, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. He catches her eye and holds it for a beat, and she pulls the phone away from her ear, breaking eye contact to end the call. And then she just stands there, shell-shocked, staring at the phone in her hands.

She hears him slip off his shoes and pad across the room towards her. There’s nowhere for her to hide, physically or emotionally. The curtain is toast, and her fingers are coated in her own arousal, and Mulder is in her living room with full knowledge of what she wishes he would do to her. This is either the best or the worst moment of her adult life. She’s afraid to find out which.

He takes the phone from her and sets it on the coffee table. Next she feels his hands on her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. She complies reluctantly, and a few seconds tick by as the familiar intensity builds. She sees in his face how much he wants this, wants her, and it reaches that point she can’t bear where she always looks away. Just when she can’t take it any longer, when she’s about to avert her eyes to the fireplace, he kisses her.

At first it’s sweet. He presses his soft lips against hers again and again, a series of firm but chaste kisses that begin to devolve when she opens her mouth and he runs his tongue across the inside of her upper lip. He’s bent down and she’s on the tips of her toes, and it feels like she just can’t get close enough.

She squeals with surprise when her feet fly out from beneath her and Mulder tosses her down on the couch, quickly covering her body with his own. Their height difference compensated for, he kisses her deeply and intensely, and he is every bit as skilled at kissing as she imagined him to be. His hips are tucked between her open legs, and the more they kiss the smaller the gap between their bodies grows until she feels the hard ridge of his erection press against her clit. She whimpers into his open mouth, and he pulls back a little to look at her.

“Do you want this?” he asks breathlessly, and she nods. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop?” She nods again.

He shifts his body to the side to free up one of his hands, then resumes kissing her. His hand drifts up under her shirt, and she feels like she could come just from the knowledge that he’s going to touch her, that this is happening. He kneads her breast, gently pinches her nipple, all the while grinding against her hip. It feels so deliciously forbidden, like they’re two teenagers necking in a basement, until his hand slides down her belly and under the waist of her pants.

He pauses, giving her time to adjust or object. She just keeps kissing him as his fingers comb through her pubic hair and then trace the seam of one leg, and then the other. She remembers his fantasy, and she shifts one of her legs to the side to let him know she’s ready. That she wants it.

“Jesus christ,” he mumbles against her mouth when his fingers slide down her slick lips.

His touch, his words, his presence, have her on the edge already.

“Mulder,” she breathes out. “I—”

He pushes a finger inside her and she gasps as her cunt squeezes it tightly.

“Oh, Scully,” he says, grinding against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. “You need this.”

She can’t stop it. She’s coming with hardly any warning, with hardly any effort on his part, and with such intensity that she stops breathing. Mulder whispers things to her that she will recall later and blush, gently fucking her with his fingers all the while. It is absolute euphoria, and she’s so high on dopamine that she can’t bother feeling embarrassed for being so easy.

Mulder slips his hand out of her pants and she turns her body so that they are face to face, somehow both wedged onto her tiny couch. She runs her fingers through his hair and then cradles his jaw, and he watches her face with awe.

“That was unexpected,” she says quietly, and a grin breaks out over his face. “Thanks for coming over,” she adds, averting her eyes to his mouth.

His smile suddenly falls. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and she lifts her eyes back to his.

“I know,” she says, and then she kisses him.

The kissing goes on for a delightfully long while, and she finds that she very much enjoys the way that Mulder kisses. At the realization that she has the long awaited opportunity to get her hands on the everpresent bulge in his pants, she runs her palm firmly over the front of his jeans, and he groans.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, extremely unconvincingly.

“What if I want to?” she asks.

She feels him lurch under her palm.

“Then I’d say we probably need to take this party to the bedroom,” he says tightly.

They scramble off the couch, and he walks her backwards into her bedroom as he works her shirt off over her head. He removes his shirt as well, and they stand at the foot of her bed, his fingers tucked under the waist of her pants. A lamp in the living room is still on, but the bedroom is dark, giving them enough light to see without feeling exposed.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing panties,” he says, and she feels herself blushing.

“They just get in the way,” she admits shyly, and he makes a little sound that’s somewhere between a whine and a moan.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, and she nods.

She feels his eyes on her, but he’s very respectful. He doesn’t stand back to gawk at her or say anything lewd, he just kisses her face, the tops of her shoulders, anything he can reach without sitting down. Before he does so for the sake of getting his mouth on her breasts, she pops the button on his fly and he sucks in a breath.

“Easy, loaded weapon,” he quips.

“I’d be a hypocrite to judge you,” she points out.

“That’s, uh, not quite the same,” he says as she lowers his fly and slips her fingers under his boxers at his hips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

She pushes his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs and then wraps her hand around his cock. Her eyebrows shoot up, and that’s before she runs her palm over the length of him.

“You know that I hate to inflate your ego,” she says, sliding her hand down to cup his balls, “but color me impressed.”

He chuckles and it dissolves into a groan. He sits heavily on the end of the bed, tugging her down with him, and she climbs into his lap. His cock brushes against her clit and she sucks in a shuddering breath.

“What do you want?” he asks, steadying her with his hands on her naked hips while he works his feet the rest of the way out of his jeans.

“...I don’t know,” she says, which is a lie.

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to say?” he asks, reading her mind as always.

She reaches between them and takes hold of his cock.

“I want this,” she whispers, feeling like she might burst into flames.

They start kissing again and she’s still stroking him, brushing him over her clit. She pushes up onto her knees a little and drags the head down over her lips and across her opening. She’s obscenely wet and Mulder is making all kinds of greedy, hungry noises: groaning and humming, grabbing at her ass and sucking on her breasts. He’s right there, and they both want this, and when she presses the head of him against her cunt and he starts to sink in, the energy in the room shifts.

“Oh, shhhhhhhhhhit,” he groans, his breathing suddenly ragged.

She feels proud, and sexy, and powerful as he stretches her open inch by inch. It hurts a little, but not near enough for her to even consider stopping. They’re both panting like they’ve exerted themselves and they’re only just getting started.

She lifts her hips again and sinks back down before she’s even managed to take him in all the way; she just can’t wait any longer. He has one hand on her hip, the other braced against the mattress behind him to keep them from toppling over, and his hips are eagerly flexing up to meet her. Each time she lowers herself back down she takes in a bit more of his length, until they are pressed tightly together and she feels the poke of his pubic hair against her swollen lips.

She stills and immediately he’s kissing her, sucking at her lips and humming noisily. She loves the sounds he’s making and how eager he is, how openly enthusiastic. God, she wants to make him come. Wants to feel him throbbing inside her, running out of her.

She starts to shift her hips forward and back, slipping him tightly in and out and running his shaft across her clit on each downstroke.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You feel…incredible.”

His compliment goes straight to her cunt and she flutters around him, making him moan.

“I’m gonna come,” she whispers shyly against his mouth.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come,” he says harshly, like this is bad news.

But the idea of him coming inside her is enough to send her over the edge. She digs her fingernails into the back of his neck and presses her forehead against his as she clamps down on him, her mouth open and her eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my god,” she wails as a tsunami of pleasure crashes over her, sweeping her out to sea.

Mulder lets loose a stream of obscenities and she feels a hot rush deep in her belly. She rides him roughly as it just keeps coming and coming, and he falls backwards onto the bed, taking her down with him. He keeps thrusting up into her from below, and the wet slosh of both of them is almost embarrassing, had she the faculties for embarrassment. He finally becomes too soft to continue thrusting and there is a second hot rush when he slips out of her.

She collapses against him, her cheek pressed to his sweat-damp chest, and waits for the inevitable surge of shame and regret, even though she knows it’s not shameful and she certainly doesn’t regret it. Without warning, Mulder wraps his arms around her and rolls her to the side, which does nothing to contain the mess between her legs. He hovers over her, searching her face, knowing her well enough to predict that she’ll struggle in the immediate aftermath.

“You okay?” he asks, trailing the back of his knuckle across her cheek.

She gives him a weak smile and nods, though tears are pooling in her eyes. She’s not even sure why.

“Please don’t take my demeanor as an indication of anything,” she says, touching his waist. “It’s not about you, I just…this is difficult for me.”

“I know,” he says. “Take as much time as you need.”

She nods, waiting for the tightness in her throat to subside before she tries to speak again.

“I’m sure Electa doesn’t require this much emotional maintenance,” she jokes, swiping a finger under her eye to clear a way a tear before it has a chance to fall.

Mulder smiles at her and sighs.

“I haven’t called her in weeks, just so you know,” he says. “And I don’t plan to.”

“You can call whoever you want, Mulder, I have no right to an opinion on it,” she says quickly, panicking at the idea that he feels beholden to her.

He rests his head on her chest just above her breast and curls up around her, which feels a bit backwards but also feels very nice. She strokes his hair and he splays his hand out over the scar on her belly, and they are quiet for a beat.

“I’d like you to have a right to an opinion on it,” he says suddenly, quietly, and it takes her a moment to follow.

“...You would?”

“Doesn’t have to be right away, but yes.”

“Okay,” she says.

He doesn’t ask what that okay means, which she’s grateful for because she doesn’t really know. And even though she’s not brave enough to ask him to stay over, he seems to know that she wants him to, and he stays. She has absolutely no idea what she’s doing, but she trusts that they’ll figure it out together, like they always do.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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a-fox-studies · 8 months

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February 6, 2024 • Tuesday

I'm a beginner in app development, and I created this trashy notes app :) the colors are jarring because I was focusing more on functionality than appearance. This is pretty good for a beginner level ig?

#dailyfoxposts #codeblr #coding #foxcodes #android app development #app development #app dev #project #app dev project #computer science #computer applications #coding journey

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jaembun · 9 months

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call this place my home.

an evening in with the roommate you might be in love with ！⠀⸻⠀lee donghyuck x gnr ⠀ fluff pre-slash ⠀ cw drinking ⠀ wc 1.9k ⠀ now playing . . ☆

생각⠀stole roomie hyuck from isa.. i need him so bad

a typical tuesday night for you normally consisted of exactly this: nothing. it was your nominated day of rest, the day you let yourself relax and turn on whatever trashy soap opera renjun had convinced you to watch that week on the basis that ‘it gets good after a few episodes, you just have to trust the process.’ you tugged on your favourite hoodie; a little threadbare from continual use but still ever comfortable, got warm under all the covers on your bed, and settled down ready to not move for at least a few hours, or if not then until you got hungry enough to go and find something to sustain yourself with.

that had been the original plan for that night as well, just the same as any other—until, of course, your somewhat-of-a-wild-card roommate donghyuck had to switch things up.

you were in the middle of scoffing over one of the scorned housewife’s confessionals when a yell of your name came from outside your door, prompting you to pause the show and wait for a moment in case hyuck elaborated on his shout. he didn’t, and so you yelled back a “what?” and awaited his reply.

“i need you in here!” was all the information he was willing to provide, and you heaved a sigh of surrender before slowly extracting yourself up out of your position buried within the various blankets and stuffed toys covering your bed to go and see what donghyuck wanted with you.

“what?” you groaned for the second time, coming to a pause in the doorway when you saw the pure amount of stuff covering your kitchen counters, ranging from pots to pans to a lonely onion gone stray from a pair further away and some steaks, all mixed in amongst other various ingredients and sauces. he wanted help with dinner, then.

but to your surprise, a simper of “keep me company?” paired with a pleading look and a pout was his request instead. you agreed fairly easily, on the term that he let you mix some of your own song choices in with his usual cooking playlist. your reward was his sunshine smile, eyes creasing up along with it, and you had to pretend to be interested in the shelf that held all of the albums the pair of you had accumulated over the years so he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks suddenly felt a bit hotter to the touch nor the grin that you failed to bite back.

your unfortunate crush on your roommate had been something that you were trying to actively pretend wasn’t there, but after nearly five months of trying to ignore it to no avail you decided that method wasn’t working out and had given in, accepting your fate. you were doomed to want donghyuck as far more than a friend for however long your heart could put up with it.

“yah! are you even listening?”

hyuck’s voice snapped you out of your momentary daze, and you turned back to see him brandishing an apron at you. you took it slowly, unsure of what he actually wanted you to do with it until he rolled his eyes at your confusion and gestured at himself.

“tie it for me, idiot.”

you brightened in realisation and hurried to comply, looping the strap over his neck and waiting for him to turn so you could tie the two strips of fabric hanging at his sides together. your touches were fleeting and you kept your head down, not letting yourself focus on anything other than the knot you were attempting lest you got distracted again. once it was done you looked up to find donghyuck peering at you from over his shoulder, eyes bright with an emotion you couldn’t read behind the thick black frames of his glasses. he looked lost in thought, but he shook himself out of it when you patted him on the shoulder and darted away from you, towards the fridge.

you quirked an eyebrow and was about to ask what more he could possibly want to get out before starting to make dinner when he turned around again, this time with an unopened bottle of red wine in hand. he handed that off to you as well, before starting to mess around with the settings on the stove and peeling back the plastic packaging the meat had came in.

“would you open that, too? and pour us a couple glasses. my phone’s charging by the sofa if you wanna set the music up.”

hyuck set to work with his jobs and in turn you diligently began yours. it was with a practiced rhythm that you grabbed a pair of the fancy wine glasses (a housewarming gift from jaemin) from their spot on one of the high shelves, and slipped past where your roommate was chopping vegetables to grab the bottle opener. he gave you a wide grin when you placed his glass in front of him, one that you returned fully before leaving your own on the kitchen island and wandering over to where his phone was charging.

“what’s your password?” you called over your shoulder, unplugging his phone from the cable so you could set it up nearer the speaker. his screen lit up when you disconnected the charger, and you froze when you saw that his lockscreen was none other than a picture of the two of you. it’d been taken on his birthday the year before, in the warm low lighting of the bar you’d all found yourselves in after his celebratory dinner. you had your arms around each other’s shoulders, and donghyuck had pressed his cheek to yours so hard that it had hurt a little, but he’d been so happy you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. there was matching smiles on your faces and twin peace signs being made with your free hands, although where hyuck had added a wink you had stuck to just beaming at the camera.

you liked the picture, of course—hell, it’d been your wallpaper for a while too, until you’d hung out with jeno a while ago and decided the photo of the pair of you in matching spa robes and face masks was a suitable enough replacement—but to see donghyuck using it came as somewhat of a (pleasant) surprise. the last time you’d seen it his lockscreen had been the picture of the whole of your friendgroup crammed into a singular booth while at karaoke, after all.

“oh, it’s—“ he froze from where he was busying himself with one of the pans on the stove, eyes widening. his voice sounded quieter than usual when he replied, and his cheeks looked a little redder. “um. i’ll do it.”

you weren’t sure what made him so opposed to telling you, but you didn’t question it and handed the phone over; taking the chance to slide into one of the stools sat behind the island and take your first drink from your glass. the brightness from his screen was turned all the way up and reflected onto his glasses, and you didn’t mean to look, but the six digits he typed in to unlock his phone felt familiar.

you turned the combination over in your mind while he passed it back so you could turn some music on, and only when you had pressed play on his instructed playlist did the answer come to you. the date you met, down to the day exactly. again—you knew, and knew he did too, but what you didn’t know was that he’d use it for something like that.

you didn’t want to think too deep into it. that would only lead to things like false hope and daydreams and thoughts that the times where donghyuck looked a little far away were times when he was having exactly the same thoughts about you. instead you necked down the remnants of your wine in almost one go and shivered after you swallowed and the alcohol rushed through your system, reaching for the bottle to top yourself up. hyuck noticed your empty glass and laughed from where he was frying the meat and vegetables.

“calm down, lightweight. wouldn’t want you getting too drunk—aren’t you working tomorrow?”

you scoffed at the jab, flipping him the bird. “lightweight my ass, i could drink you under the table.”

to prove your point you took a prolonged sip from your second glass, and then shook your head in answer to his question. “we’re shut tomorrow. something about too many people being out sick.”

hyuck nodded in understanding and then went back to pouring things into the pan, stirring as he went. it sizzled from the heat and both looked and smelled almost done, and you felt your stomach ache a little in anticipation. you weren’t even all that mad about your usual tuesday night plans being derailed, now more looking forward to sitting down and enjoying a meal with donghyuck than watching rich people gossip about one another (although you had to admit that said gossip was entertaining).

the pair of you made idle chat and swapped insults at each other’s music choices while they played, draining a few more glasses of wine between you as you went, until finally hyuck was shutting off the heat and presenting you the food with a flourish, looking highly proud of himself despite how his glasses had fogged up slightly from the steam. he was setting about grabbing two pairs of chopsticks when you stopped him in his tracks.

“please tell me you weren’t actually expecting us to eat out of the pot.”

he wilted under your flat stare, and you rolled your eyes. “maybe? i just don’t want to bother you for too long with washing up afterwards. i know tuesdays are usually your designated soap opera nights.”

his logic didn’t make much sense but the reasoning behind it was sweet, and you willed yourself not to melt after hearing it, deciding not to mention that you didn’t actually mind in place of trying to keep a firm resolve despite the mirth slowly creeping into your next words.

“and yet you made me keep you company while you cooked?”

donghyuck pouted again as he was called out, setting his half-full glass down a little too carelessly to complain at you.

“i didn’t want to be lonely! i like having you around, you know? even if your music taste is..” he trailed off and pulled a disgusted face, miming throwing up, and in response you balled up the dishcloth left on the counter in your reach and threw it right between his eyes to distract him from the fact that his words had (again) made it hard for you not to do something stupid; like confess your feelings right then and there, or pull him into a kiss by the front of his apron.

“my music taste is fine, thank you very much. now help me set the table, and then we can eat.”

he gave you a mock salute and reached behind himself to fiddle with the knot you’d tied for him earlier, slipping his apron off and hanging it up before returning to your side.

you jostled each other on the way to the curlery drawer, poked more fun at the songs you had queued up to play while you ate, fought playfully over who got to pour who more wine, and then as you finally sat down together at the table you had the sudden thought that, if you got to spend more nights with hyuck like this—smiley, playful, with flushed cheeks and skin warm to the touch from the alcohol—then the worries that came with the possibility of you ruining your friendship with a few simple words could be put aside for just a little while longer.

#⠀⠀⏖ works ⊹ ᶻ ⁺⠀⠀#⠀⠀해찬 ⠀ ✶⠀⠀#haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #girl thinkkk abt it before u leave #cuz bobbys got a brand new swing 🕺🏻

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memberment · 3 days

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good morning everyone

yes it's 7pm.

no I did not just wake up for the day, but I did just wake up from a nap and honestly all I really did was read trashy webtoons and get like 500 words out meanwhile I have homework due at 3am so I might as well have just woken up.

idk y'all I was rlly sleepy today.

I got through a bunch of fun in Morning Glory but I think I'm switching back over to Revelations again bc lowk I think I can only write so much fluff before I'm like okay where the fuck is the plot???

Idk guys think I might be duo writing atp bc I get bored from things being too good and then devastated bc Revelations is lowk gut wrenching along with the scary shit LMAOO

whatever whatever updates here AFTER I get some of my work done bc goddamn, am I behind.

(12:11) so guys I totally did shit on my physics test but ngl actually kind of understanding what I was doing made me feel like god's favorite questionably gendered royalty so I think I'm gonna force myself to learn physics.

but tomorrow because I actually just spent like five hours working on pulling myself together for said test and I'm kinda dead inside. I'm going back to working on Revelations in the meantime. I'm gonna post Tweek's guide either like later or what you folk constitute as tomorrow (me personally, Tuesday is Tuesday but whatever) because I just do not have the energy to think up a chapter title at the moment. And I know I've mentioned this but y'all I am never waiting to make chapter titles again like they're just getting done as we go now. Summaries too bc FUCK THAT idk why I didn't think this would be an issue literally like THREE MONTHS AGO when these got finished god bless

(2:09) Revelations is at like 3.5k and lowk I am like DRAGGING my feet with this beginning chapter. Like, it's literally just this beginning bit I keep jumping back into my notes to write stuff from later in the fic LMFAOO

Like, I know once I get past 17 it's gonna go so fast but GODDDDD, trying to write the same things but ever so slightly different and then some different events entirely thrown in there is making my head hurt because idk like what exactly I want to include. Like, yes, we get our boys finalizing their contracts. BUT NOW WHAT. LIKE AM I FLESHING OUT THIS ENTIRE MEET UP????

DOES KENNY ACTUALLY EXPLODE AT SAID MEET UP OR AM I MAKING AN EXCUSE FOR THIS???

Bc I do kinda want everyone to see Clyde break his arm for the first time on page. (Speaking of, him and Kenny are talking in this first chapter AND THEY'RE SO FUCKING AWKWARD LIKE IT'S ACTUALLY PAINFUL LMFAOOOO)

but ugh

yk what I'm going back to reading trashy webtoons for the next few business hours bc my best ideas seem to come to me at twilight and it is 2am. LATER!

(6:15) I've decided to force myself to post guide. I swear to god I need like a calendar person to scream at me when I don't post LMAOOOO LIKE I DA WILL FORGET

(6:52) Guys I have re-fallen in love with Lost, my god.

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filmpenance · 7 months

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Last Rites (1988)

Donald P. Bellisario 1h 43m [Day 12, 2024 - Trashy Tuesday]

"You are all witnesses! The wop started it!" - O'Bannon

Last Rites is what happens when you want to make a cool mafia film, but plot, good casting and assured direction are incidental. But still, it will be so cool!

Packed with Italian American cliches, this movie has more cheese than a Kraft factory.

It essentially follows a film noir framework, with all of the gravitas of Chef Boyardee.

Tom Berrenger plays mafia connected priest Father Michael Pace (pah-chay), who smokes, drinks, and bullies the other priest in his parish.

Word spreads quickly through the Italian mob community that underboss, Geno has been taken out. But who killed him?

It was mafia daughter Zena, Geno's wife who shot him - catching him in the arms of his Mexican mistress Angela (Daphne Zuniga), doing it against a lot of curtains.

Angela narrowly escapes the gunfire, and with possibly the least convincing Mexican accent of all time, finds herself at church in a confessional spilling the beans to Fr. Pace.

Angela doesn't know it, but Zena is Fr. Pace's sister.

He vows to keep her safe, despite his ties to Zena (Anne Twomey - giving her best Anjelica Houston impersonation). He also vows to keep it in his pants.

Fr. Michael is not great at the whole "keeping your vows" thing.

I still viscerally remember how much Roger Ebert hated Last Rites, calling it, "easily the most offensive big budget picture of 1988". I waited decades to experience what he was talking about. And it is so wonderfully, unintentionally funny. *

The film draws from some great inspirations. A little Scarface, some Fatal Attraction. It had me wondering if Jonathan Demme or Brian De Palma could have done something with this material. I think the first thing they'd do is rewrite it.

It's terrible. I'll probably watch it again.

Pair with / watch instead: Prizzi's Honor, Married to the Mob

TRAILER:

youtube

* So sidenote...

I was really trepidatious about watching Last Rites. I kept pushing it off. I remember the terrible Siskel & Ebert review - Ebert went in hard and it stuck with me. I was worried it would be terrible and I wanted it to be awesome. In my mind, there could be nothing more appealing than this Berenger/ Zuniga pairing. Before watching, I get to imagine everything this movie could be and watching it locks in a specificity I sensed I would find distasteful, like nationalism or spaghetti straps. But I had to confront it. Just watch it and accept history as it is and not the poster. Sort of like Electric Dreams.

Siskel & Ebert: https://youtu.be/u9gCiLZtpZI?si=elYoIq3c4sHlMb5P

#film penance #filmpenance #film review #lent #movie review #movie #trashy tuesday #recovering catholic #filmpenance2024 #last rites #last rites 1988 #don bellisario #donald p bellisario #tom berenger #daphne zuniga #Youtube

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iantimony · 17 days

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it's tuesday!

last weekend someone taught me how to catch crayfish when wading and this weekend i successfully grabbed one!! proof at the end of the post.

listening: guess (charli xcx, billie eilish): old roommate put this on for me and helloooooo. it's so. yeah. (link is the official music video, warning for flashing) it led me to this playlist cunty trashy slutty skanky which, first of all, excellent playlist name; second of all, what a fucking combination of songs?? something about the juxtaposition of nirvana -> kesha -> korn, etc is. insane in a good way.

last week was bandcamp friday! i last-minute got a few things: finally got sammy rae's "good life" and "let's throw a party", and preordered their newest album "something for everybody". i still need to buy my ticket for their concert near to me this fall. then i got sad snack's full discography for like $5 (the no children ska cover lol), the altogether's "when we were kids" which has been a go-to comfort album for me for a bit, shakey graves "deadstock" anthology, and finally the dear hunter "antimai".

i've been back on the podcast grind, just casually keeping up with stuff like mbmbam sawbones lpotl etc as they come out. most recent mbmbam (episode....730?? jesus christ) has some REALLY funny bits, notably towards the beginning where the cincinnati tornado sirens were being tested and griffin made a comment about the air raid sirens going off again and travis was like ?? dude i'm not in the fucking blitz??? it was very good. there was something else towards the end of the episode that also made me laugh out loud -- oh yes i just went and relistened to the last minute and it's the wish at the end, "i wish my cat would know what it means when i flip him off". so fucking true griffin. i was considering going to one of their tour dates but unfortunately they will be in the nearest city to me when i'm out of town for my second wedding of the fall. ah well

reading: most fallow. lots of little articles for my research.

watching: shane dawson and the art of the constant rebrand - jimmy robins: little retrospective about a guy who i never really liked and haven't thought about in years. i guess he's still around ??? okay. not gonna embed it so you don't get jumpscared by his face.

playing: this is a partial share with watching but last weekend my old roommate and i hung out with one of our friends with the intention of having dinner and crafting. however. we were so tired from kayaking earlier that day that we just ended up watching friend play stray and not crafting at all. it's really cute! i did get Very emotional at the beginning when the cat fell! i was like no!!!

my friend mostly played it but i did do a little bit, it was lots of fun. there was a very funny bit where friend, getting really in the mindset of Being Cat, pulled out a battery pack from a fan and was like "hehe i'm gonna drop it off the roof!" and did it before we could stop her, we were like wait we might need that to solve a puzzle -- but the answer was no it was fine, which is good, because it ended up dropped on a completely inaccessible rooftop ledge below, oopsie.

making: !!! ALL REDACTED !!! i will be able to post some of it next week. i do not know if beloved mutual celestialtourguide reads these regularly but just to be safe. allegedly the glaze kiln WILL be done by wednesday so i will finally know how fucked my guys are. if they're very fucked it'll be like. well, okay, i guess my gift is just money now,

other redacted item is embroidery related!

eating: mostly leftovers from last week, i think im gonna make crisped chickpeas with herbs and garlic yogurt from deb smittenkitchen to use up a zucchini that i have languishing in the fridge. it'll be a nice light lunch.

misc: THE PRELIMINARY EXAM DOCUMENT EXISTS. rejoice. however this comes with the caveat that i don't have a date set yet because i am in the trenches of trying to solve a Very specific problem with my software. the solution is a complete unknown to me as of now. it is in the stage of "putting key words in quotation marks in google scholar and going down the list emailing all the authors like heyyyy help please", which is scary. at least one other person has done something semi-similar - in fact they have my advisor in their acknowledgements thanking them for her editing help lol - so i'm hoping i'm nearly there. because once that is resolved i can FINALLY set a date, which, assuming i pass, also sets the earliest point at which i can give my thesis defense! scary!!

anyway. crayfish proof. it looks like im squishing him way worse than i actually was, he got released and swam away safely do not worry

#tuesdayposting #Spotify

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 1 year

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honestly zutara being such a popular ship doesn’t bother me because the most recent 2000’, 2010’ and 2020’ romance stories have being the worst shit u could imagine i mean twilight, 50 shades of gray, the after series like my god they’re so popular aand soo bad no wonder zutara is so popular lol aand i do see zutarians wanting their ship to be like pride & prejudice which is one of the only good romances who are popular buut they will never compare to mr darcy and elizabeth leets be honest

I'm gonna be real, I don't care that people like shitty "love stories" like Twillight or 50 Shades. What bothers me is when these people are not even a little bir aware that the relationships in these stories are not healthy, and thus are only to be immitated in other works of fiction, not in real life (50 Shades in particular annoys me since it's taken as BDSM 101 by some clueless people even after the actual kink community went "PLEASE don't take this as a guide, you WILL get seriously hurt"). If they're aware of it and just want to enjoy some trashy fun to turn off their brains for awhile? Good for them, none of my business.

Same for Zutara - I think the ship is boring and makes no sense, but if people like it, fine. if they are writting fics in which their relationship is problematic, toxic, abusive or they're just selfish assholes in geral, while being AWARE that's what they're writting? Power to them. Do they want to write some self-indulgent crap and get all pretencious? Same, that's a Tuesday for me.

It's the non-stop, condescending, arrogant "We are totally the feminist ship", "We are canon actually, you MUST treat us a such", and "We can write full on non-con fics if we like, but if you dare to ship Kataang after the Ember Island kiss, you're an abusive apologist" that I cannot fucking stand.

#anti zutara

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sandcobangevent · 5 months

Text

Misery (No Company)

by @clonksterclonk and @pepperpepperz Read the fic and view the art on AO3!

“Sherlock! I’m going to the big shop, you want anything?”

Sherlock yells a no as an answer.

John is leaving the flat again. Thats the third time this week, which would be more then normal if there was an open case, but as of now, the Sherlock & Co. crew has just finished one. Therefore- no reason for John to be leaving again. He always comes back with massive bags and every time Sherlock questions him it goes nowhere.

He has, of course, tried investigating this himself, but found nothing but a few pillows (new? possibly second hand from either a shop or Carol - light remnants of a perfume resembling hers). When that proved fruitless he decided to let it go for now. His ant colony is growing steadily and it requires his attention.

Unfortunately the detectives thoughts keep coming back to Johns strange behaviour no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. He wanted to believe that his suspicions sprung from nothing, that his brain hasn’t yet registered that the case is over, that there’s nothing more to figure out… but small things just kept. coming. up.

On tuesday night, after they solved the last mystery, Sherlock expected to settle into their post case routine. He was going to take a shower, change into his pjs and lock himself into his room to let his body and brain go offline for an hour or two before joining John downstairs to take part in mandatory dinner (which usually ended up being sandwiches they bought on the way home or chinese food john ordered while he way out of it) and afterwards plop down on the couch with his companion to watch trashy tv until they fell asleep on the couch.

John disrupted the routine when he made dinner himself. After the case, he made Sherlock penne pasta. Not a monumental task by any means, but a small change from their usual, one that stuck with Sherlock. Instead of watching love is blind, they watched a documentary on corvids. Sherlock would love the evening if he wasn’t on edge the whole time.

It felt like the calm before the storm. He felt something coming and he didn’t like it.

He ended up caring for his ants, begrudgingly naming them after the strange people from the blue app in his phone when the front door opened. Sherlock felt himself tense and took a deep breath, trying to look nonchalant as John made his way up the stairs. When his blond head finally made it thru, he was holding another big bag.

“Oh hello! Ants again? For the love of god if they escape again ill use the spray-“

“Weren’t you just going to the big store? Why the duffel bag?”

Silence fell over the room before John started stuttering, trying his best to explain himself (hiding something).

“Oh you know, trying to be more environmentally friendly and all that haha, we should uh, all try that, right? Besides don’t even try to steer the conversation away from the ants, im still pissed off about that,” is what John settles on, crossing his arms and when Sherlock didn’t respond, he just huffed under his breath and headed upstairs.

Environmentally friendly my arse, thought Sherlock to himself later that night, sneaking his way around the flat to get to Johns room and investigate. Unfortunately he didn’t get far, the locked room to Johns room greeted him with a sticky note saying ‘buzz off, nosy prick :P’

Normally, picking the lock wouldn’t be an issue but Sherlock felt weirdly discouraged. Did John… actually think he was a prick? God, what a stupid thought, of course not. He felt silly as the thought came and went. John was his best friend. That’s what he kept telling himself as he tried fall asleep, the slightest notes of uncertainty and sadness overtaking him as he drifted to the land of dreams.

—

When he wakes up, the flat is empty, which doesn’t surprise him anymore, but the sting in his chest make’s itself known again regardless. The weather outside is typical for England, a loud inconsistent tap tap taping noise of the raindrops against the windows filling the entire building. Sherlock rubs at his eyes and digs in his nightstand for his noise cancelling headphones before begrudgingly heading downstairs.

What greets him is the absence of that familiar tea smell. He even finds himself missing the crunching of biscuits as his best friend stuffs his face every morning, insisting that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

He heads over to his violin, hoping its gentle tones will help dull the rain better then the headphones did. He doesn’t have a piece in mind when he starts playing, but as the notes start flying thru the air he feels weirdly… sad.

The absence of John in the flat is palpable. Without a case to work on his mind is constantly reminding him of just how alone he is. How lucky he was, to make a friend like John. People have good reasons to find him off putting - he’s objectively terrible at being a person. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever make a friend like John again.

There’s a sinking feeling the longer he plays. John isnt coming back, the voice in his head says. He’s had enough of you. This adventure was fun, but he’s done. It’s done. Nothing lasts forever.

His stupid, stupid brain keeps bringing things up, no matter how loud or aggressively he plays, ignoring the tears stinging in his eyes.

When did he start crying?

All the boxes, John buying and borrowing stuff. He’s ready to move out, ready to move on. From this life, from this dumpster fire of a flat. From sherlock.

The music reaches a crescendo and a sob wrecks Sherlocks body when he hears an almost silent ping, and then everything stops. He almost feels like he made the noise up, so he takes off his ear defenders when he hears it again, it’s clearer without the distractions. He carefully sets his violin and headphones down and makes him way towards the source of the mysterious noise.

Sherlock comes into the kitchen, where Johns phone lays, the screen just now turning dark after the second message came thru. This is it. In front of him is the confirmation that he needs.

Johns password is all to predictable, and even tho he knows he shouldn’t, Sherlock picks the phone up and starts reading.

mariana: i think i lost you lol, hope you caught that cab

mariana: im almost home, sherlock will be so happy im telling you :33

Sherlock doesn’t even have time to process what that means when the front door opens and he freezes, caught in the act. There’s two sets of footsteps coming from downstairs.

“I mean it John, how do you lose a phone in a Coop? It’s not like it’s-“

“Yeah, shut it,” John laughs, “I think I’ve left the phone at home, let’s just hope that- Oh mate you okay? Your eyes are all red!” John waltzes thru the door with Mariana right on his tail, dropping the bag he was holding and rushing over to Sherlock, raising his arm tentatively before stopping himself. “Touching alright?”

Sherlock nods, still in shock as John wipes his tears away gently, handing him a napkin that Mari took out of her purse.

“Can whatever happened be fixed with some peanuts and a hot coco?” Mariana quips, smiling up at Sherlock as John bends down to show of the bag. It’s full of snacks. John and Mariana brought snacks.

Snacks. Blankets. Pillows. Sherlock is an idiot.

That evening was spent watching Fantastic Mr. Fox, the trio cuddled up on the couch. Sherlocks nails were purple now, which was new, but not unpleasant. His hair had a little braid (?) in it and he has eaten enough salted peanuts to kill a healthy pony and for once in forever, everything was okay.

#submission #sherlock & co #sherlock and co #event #fanart #fanfiction #flash bang #creative collaboration #sherlock holmes #john watson #mariana ametxazurra

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